


maybe it's too late, but i'll still try.

by liberateme



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Deepthroating, Fluff, M/M, Pining Harry, Sexual Tension, Shy Liam, Slash, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberateme/pseuds/liberateme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hasn't told anybody. He's determined to keep it that way.<br/>If it were to get out he's got a 'crush' on his best friend, he'd be ruined. The joke of the media.<br/>November 2013, a world concert ended and an after-party later, Harry thinks he might have a chance this time.<br/>A chance to make things right with the doe-eyed, puppy dog boy who's stolen his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe it's too late, but i'll still try.

**Author's Note:**

> i think i'm getting better at writing slash. i'm not too sure. i just have a lot of spare time on my hands. having noticed there wasn't a lot of lirry fics around, i decided to write this. enjoy.  
> in which harry realises he has feelings for liam, and it can only end well for the curly-haired tease.

 

Harry can't pinpoint the exact moment where he began to have feelings for the Wolverhampton boy. Up until then, he's always seen Liam as the fatherly figure, the panicked kind who'd worry over the smallest things. In interviews, Liam always had a watchful eye over his bandmates, including Harry- ensuring they didn't step out of line, or say something they'd later regret. Liam reminds Harry of the strict parent: he's always been there to protect them, but whenever they were in the wrong, they'd get a severe chastising from him. Hence why their slightly deranged fans awarded him the nickname 'Daddy Direction', and Harry thinks it can't be anymore fitting. Everything about Liam screams consequences and common sense, and in their band of care-free hooligans, it's good to have at least one sensible person.

So for the next three years, they do what they do best: go with the flow of life, live for now. It involves late nights partying- letting loose a little stress from the worldwide tours- serenading pre-pubescent screaming teenage girls, joking around in photoshoots and bad dancing. It can't be anymore perfect. And somehow, they've wooed a nation of people doing just this. Just thinking about it makes Harry's head spin.

They've all got their own roles, fans' fond nicknames for them, which they've grown into over the few years. Like their lives are a film set, they've each got their own individual character, someone people expect them to be, every day. Actors, they are really; acting out roles they've been rewarded by fans. There's Louis, to begin with. 'The Tommo', derived from his nickname, he's the joker. Unpredictable, he's got his own quirks and bizarre behaviour that never fails to make people laugh. Next is Niall- Nialler, the little leprechaun- who's so bubbly, and full of energy that Harry's surprised he never tires, and known for his insatiable appetite. Then there's Zayn; the 'Bradford Bad Boy', who's been labelled as the mysterious dark horse due to how quiet he is, when in reality Harry's guessing he's debating what to have for dinner.

At least, that's how he sees it.

That leaves Liam. Funny, sweet, caring shy Liam. Harry remembers the first time they met, recalling he'd pounced on Liam with such force they toppled over. And if he _really_ strains his memory- he kids himself Liam looked a little flustered, cheeks coloured. He learns a lot of Liam during the time in the X Factor, insignificant facts like he's a closeted Disney fanatic, and his habit of singing in the shower. And just when he feels he's getting to know Liam- _really_ connect- they're signed to Simon's record label, shot to fame, the rest is a blur and before Harry knows it, the words 'One Direction' is on every teenager's lips.

He feels like the focus on his and Louis' relationship- 'Larry Stylinson- tears him away from Liam, and it's nine in the evening when he stumbles across featured Larry fanfiction on Tumblr, avidly reading it when he realises he's fucked up. Badly.

 

* * *

 

Early May when Liam makes the decision to publicly announce his break up with Danielle Peazer; a slim, slender flexible dancer for the X Factor. Harry didn't doubt Liam's skill with women, and it was a little odd that he should feel disappointment over Liam having a girlfriend. He tried to console himself with the likes of Caroline Flack, and a few other anonymous women who were captured by the press, but to his fortune, all eyes were too busy concentrated on the new 'Payzer' couple, for anyone to care about Harry's meaningless flings or one night stands. He'd watch another victim go, struggling to pull on her high heels, lipstick smeared across her face, all dignity lost as she hobbles away, and he remembers realising it'll never be enough. No number of women- he's sure his digits are nearing the hundreds- will ever satisfy him, fill the gaping hole in his heart Liam's left.

He forgets to mention his pining after Liam leaves him a hopeless romantic. Like a lovestruck bard, writing dreary poems about love and infatuation and loss. Nothing else confirms your feelings for a fellow bandmate as strongly as a dreary poem. It just screams, 'I've spent too much time thinking about you and I want to declare my love for you in the worst way possible'! It's safe to say Harry won't be writing any poems currently. Besides, they're not his area of expertise.

Now, recently broken up with a girl Liam had claimed was 'the one', it leaves him wounded and vulnerable. It's the opportune moment for Harry, excitement tingling from his fingertips to his toes at the thought of finally getting what he's wanted, all this time. And he wants Liam.

* * *

 

November, and they've just ended their world tour on a high. Buzzing with adrenaline from the spotlights, cheering crowds and just the experience of being on centre stage, Harry's feeling reckless. It might just be the more impulsive of side of him controlling him, but he doesn't care. Tonight, he just wants to let fire run through his veins, and enjoy feeling unstoppable. Louis- being crazy, wild Louis- somehow initiates a spontaneous after-party, and before Harry knows what's going on, it's erratic flashing lights, heavy drinking and frenzied dancing. Every fibre in Harry's body is buzzing- anticipation maybe? Because he knows tonight is a chance to get closer to Liam. It's now or never.

He spots him in the corner, sitting down and sipping politely at a beer bottle. Only _the_ Liam Payne would _sip_ from a bottle, Harry thinks to himself. He's wearing a tight-fitting patterned blue short sleeve, and a pair of denim jeans, and Harry thinks he can't look anymore out of place with his wide doe eyes and small smile. God, does he want to fuck him. Just the sight of Liam's muscles straining in the shirt has Harry's mouth watering. Since he ditched the Justin Bieber imitation hair, chequered shirts and oversized trousers, opted for loose-fiiting vests, tattoos inked on his skin and a hint of stubble, it has Harry thinking _it's really not fair._ He went from the sweet, innocent 'I'd want him to be my guy best friend' to 'God doesn't he look fuck-worthy' with thirty-year old women having wet dreams about him.

So, yes, maybe he's coming at Liam with full-force and under the influence of alcohol, but what else is new? Harry's a nineteen year old popstar who's got a crush on his best friend, and Liam must have known their lives would never be ordinary after July, in '10. Unfortunately, he doesn't come up to greet him in the most graceful way. He's stumbling, hallucinating imaginary objects that have him tripping up, and Harry thinks there might be some alarm on Liam's face.

God, Harry thinks with disapproval, you'd think he'd be _used to it_ by now. Maybe he's being too harsh on the poor boy. Liam's never come across as the most confident, or cocky- neither of those, really. Harry's first impression of him, was 'the shy, solemn boy from Wolverhampton with the Northern accent'. He's never bragged about his relationship with Danielle, or spared any explicit details. Not that Louis or _any_ of the boys for that matter, haven't tried to coax it out of him- it's just Liam's remained firm about it. In fact, Harry can remember sharing a few personal facts about him- "I like to watch porn, it's the screaming that gets to me"- _just_ to see the blush that tinted Liam's cheeks, and his eyes to dart away, not meeting Harry's direct gaze.

He thinks it's cute. Cute how Liam can be embarrassed by sex, and cute that he stutters when Harry's forcing him to be honest with him about his and Danielle's sex life. Not that Harry needs to know, as Louis pointed out.

"You don't need to know anything of this, Styles, do you?" He'd said, with the signature coy smile on his face. "Admit it. You just like to tease Liam."

Harry refused to reveal anything, because c'mon, it's _Louis,_ and God knows what he'll do with information like that, it's gold to him. If he was feeling generous, he'd keep it a secret, and tell no-one. _If._ But there was the possiblility he could use it as valuable blackmail material. The unpredictabilty of Tomlinson is what has Harry sweating about him. You don't know what he'll do. One thing's for certain, Harry doesn't want this getting out. In the wrong hands, it's a deadly weapon.

Yes, he did just describe his feelings for Liam like it's the next chemical weapon.

He's reached Liam now, mind fuzzy at the edges and reflexes slow. " _Leeyum,_ " he sing-songs, throwing an arm around the baffled boy. "Why won't you come dance with _meee_?"

There's a chortle, and then: "Don't you have anybody else to dance with?"

Harry leans in closely, bending down to whisper in Liam's ear, "No, because there's nobody here who looks as fuckable as you do."

A little shocked noise escapes Liam's mouth, and something hot pools in the pit of his belly, because _God_ he wants to hear Liam make that noise again. Liam's flushed red, searching for words and stammering, mouth unhinged. "I, er-er..."

"Come _on,_ Liam." He presses, persistently. If Liam didn't feel in the mood to dance, he shouldn't have worn that shirt, Harry can't tear his eyes away from how _strong_ Liam's arms look, can't stop the thoughts of pinning those arms above his head, listening to Liam's erratic breathing. Simple logic, really.

"I can't-I'm not-"

"You're coming with me, whether you like it or not." With that, he grabs Liam's wrist, and drags him up from his chair, and into the centre of the room where currently Louis is doing a break-dancing solo and the others are egging him on. Harry waits patiently with a weakly-protesting Liam by the sidelines, until Louis- like the drama queen he is- finishes his performance with a flourish, to the catcalls and applause of others.

Harry cracks a smile, at his kooky friend's behaviour. But when some chart song that's been popular for a couple of weeks now, with a catchy beat comes on, all eyes are on Liam again. Bashful, bewildered Liam, God bless him. Harry feels protectiveness towards him, too. He wants Liam to feel safe and comfortable, and to do that, he needs the help of alcohol.

"Stay here, okay?" He mutters in Liam's ear, loving the effect he has on Liam, goosebumps rising on the older boy's skin.

"Er- yeah, sure, um-"

But Harry's gone, navigating his way to the bar, wading through crowds of people he's pretty sure he's never met in his life. He orders Liam a shot of the strong stuff, hoping it'll relax him. He's too tense now, far too tense for Harry to attempt anything. And he will not, he repeat _not_ will fuck this up. It takes some skill to have his hands occupied carrying drinks _and_ manage to manoeuvre back to Liam without spilling a drop, but he does it.

One point to Styles, life zero.

"Here you go." He flashes Liam a grin, handing him his drink.

"Wh-what is it?" Liam peers at the suspicious-looking liquid, looking so intimidating by his surroundings, and inexperienced that Harry has to restrain himself from crashing him against a wall, curling a hand around his cock to just to hear that noise again. A high, breathy sound that has Harry's dick stirring.

"Just drink it. _Relax,_ Liam. Nothing bad's going to happen to you," he reassures Liam, 'accidently' brushing his hand against his crotch. He feels Liam's body jolt in surprise, eyes focused only on him. He watches Liam's widen slightly, and take a cautious sip. Harry pushes the bottom of the glass gently, forcing the liquid to run down Liam's throat, Adam's Apple bobbing as he swallows it all.

 _Shit._ Harry's mind wanders to dirty thoughts, like putting Liam's ability to use, and wondering how far he'd be able to deepthroat him. Now he _really_ regrets thinking it, because either his jeans don't fit him, or they're straining under his erection. He's hoping Liam can't see.

"Better?" He asks Liam, still grinning.

 Liam swallows again. God, he's got to stop doing that. "Yeah, I, um, er-"

"Now let's dance."

* * *

 

Everything's going to plan. Perfectly. Not that Harry had time to think up one, but all he knows, is things are running smoothly with Liam and it's all he ever wanted. His hands are on Liam, running up and down his sides. Although Liam's dancing hesitantly, he can feel the slightest pressure on his crotch and knows Liam's pressing onto him. Tipsy, upset and definitely a little horny- it's been months since Liam's actually _satisfied_ himself, and Harry's determined to be the one to do that- it's the perfect combination.

He decides it's time to take this a step further. Besides, they're hidden by the darkness- everybody's too wrapped up in themselves. Louis' dancing frantically, Zayn's chatting up a blonde with a nice view from where Harry's looking, and Niall's buggered off with a couple of girls clinging onto his waist. Lucky bastard.

Harry ducks his head down, nibbling at Liam's earlobe, pressing a kiss just underneath onto a sensitive spot Harry uncovered by accident. Since then, he's been imagining the day he got to take advantage of this information. He hears a gargled sound, and smirks to himself. Just how many noises can he draw out of Liam, he wonders. Quite a few, he's guessing, judging by the fair few he's already made.

"You okay, Liam?" He noses under Liam's jaw line, nudging it to the side. There's no answer, just shallow breaths. " _Leeyum_?"

"I-I think I've got to go. It's getting late, and-"

"Where are you staying?" Harry interrupts.

"Er, a hotel, just around the corner-" Liam cuts himself off, somehow managing to think soberly, and Harry can barely believe it. "-why?"

"I'll walk you there," Harry says in a tone that leaves no room for argument- although he doubts Liam willargue with him. Feebly, Liam nods, head ducked down. Harry bites his lip at the sight of him, because _fuck_ is it getting hard to resist Liam.

Harry wonders how long he'll be able to last.

* * *

 

The next ten minutes are a blur due to the alcohol in Harry's system, a haze of excitement and trembling nerves. He blames Liam. 11pm in the evening, the chilly November air freezes them both, and Harry remembers feeling Liam's quivering body near his, using the excuse to rub his palms on Liam's bare skin, to warm him- Harry knows otherwise- and Liam's little jump at the contact.

Before he can comprehend what's happening, they're in Liam's hotel room, he's got him pinned up against the wall (as he's always pictured, countless times), licking into his mouth in a way that has Liam's knees buckling, his entire body weak. Harry smirks against his lips, being the cocky bastard he is. But he can tell Liam's still a little unsure about the whole situation, from his hesitant kissing. He understands this isn't something Liam's used to, kissing his bandmate, and he needs to get Liam relaxed but still aroused. To get a good balance between the two will be difficult, but he's hoping Liam's tipsiness will give him that edge.

"C'mon, Liam," he mumbles against his lips. "Let me touch you."

He lets out a little squeak, and Harry thinks it's the second best sound he's ever heard, next to the gasp. Harry's hands wander to the buckle of his belt, playing with it in a way he knows has Liam frustrated.

"Harry, _please-_ " Liam's voice cracks, slightly raw from all the alcohol he's drunk, head pulling away from the kiss.

"It's okay, Li-Li. I'll take care of you." The fond nickname works, has Liam's tensed muscles relaxing, allowing Harry to do what he wants. Harry gets rid of his restricting jeans, dropping down onto his knees, with a wicked grin on his face. Liam peers down on him, eyes groggy.

"What...what are you doing?" He asks, voice more high-pitched than normal, breathing irregular.

"What do you think I'm going to do. I'm going to suck you off until it's almost unbearable," Harry says, in a casual tone. Liam splutters, blood rushing to the surface of his skin. Harry can feel really how heated his skin is, burning from underneath his hand. He starts off slow, teasing. Blowing cool air from his lips on his thighs until Liam's squirming underneath him, desperate for some sort of friction. His fingers hook around the waistband of Liam's Autograph boxers, looking so tight and straining on him, tugging them down.

And there he is, in all his throbbing glory. Dick flushed an angry shade of red, fully erect. Harry curls a hand around it, pressing a kiss to the tip. There's a whining noise come from the back of Liam's throat, as he wriggles some more, unable to keep still under Harry. Harry's no stranger to giving blowjobs, but as he licks a hot stripe along the underside of Liam's dick, he's doing everything in his power to make it as good as possible. He wants Liam to remember this. He gives the slit little kitten licks, tasting the leaking pre-cum.

He hears his breath hitch, and figures he should give him a break, attaching his lips onto Liam's dick. He's rewarded with another sound, a whimper that makes him painfully hard. But tonight, it's about Liam.

His eyes flick up, and he can see Liam's has his face turned to the side, hiding away from Harry. He can't say anything to comfort Liam, so the next best thing is to give him mind-blowing pleasure. He pumps Liam slowly, until he feels something stir underneath his hand. He lowers himself onto Liam as far as he can push himself, until the older boy's dick is touching the roof of his mouth. He gags, only slightly, eyes watering, but doesn't pull away for air. There's a burn in his throat, his lungs are screaming for air; it's just the way he likes it. It's worth it, to feel Liam's hands find his hair, twisting into his curls, scratching at the scalp. He forces himself down so far, his nose brushes against the coarse material of Liam's shirt. Only _Liam James Payne_ would have the natural scent of strawberry air freshener.

Harry moans against Liam, the vibrations having an effect on him, as he hears Liam begin to pant, tugging at his hair.

"H-Harry..." It's the first word Harry hears Liam say since he's started, and it encourages him to keep going. He knows Liam's close, as his dick bumps against the wall of his throat, there's the tiniest of moans, mixed in with pants. He loves seeing Liam so vulnerable, and exposed. Liam needs that little push over the edge, so Harry uses a hand to squeeze his balls, and it's all it takes. Liam comes with a shout- surprisingly vocal- pulling away just in time, Liam paints his face with white ribbons.

He won't admit he's a bit of a cumslut, but Liam can clearly see for himself, as he stands up, licking away traces of cum. Liam can't seem to get over his embarrassment, avoiding eye contact and breathing heavily.

"Li-Li. Don't be ashamed, I just want to make you feel good," Harry says gently, admiring how debauched Liam looks. All because of him. "Please let me." He knows he's asking a lot, and he respects Liam for being shy. This is 'Daddy Direction', his best friend and bandmate of three years and he's requesting he can fuck him, after Liam's already been worn out.

Liam squeezes his eyes shut, and nods slightly. It's all the agreement he needs; Harry is raring to go.

"I need you to get on your bed, okay?" Harry's throwing off his clothes at what he thinks is an impressive rate, and he's in too deep to care about whether he looks too eager or not, and 'will he call me?', shit like that. Besides, Liam's barely conscious by now, he thinks, trying to regain his breath as he staggers to lie on the bed.

"This will have to come off," Harry yanks at Liam's shirt. Liam bites his lip, staring at the bed. So Harry decides he needs convincing.

"C'mon, Li. There's nothing to be shy about. You're fucking gorgeous." He lifts Liam's chin up, meeting the big brown doe eyes that he fell in love with. "Absolutely _fucking gorgeous._ " His face colours, so Harry takes that as a good sign, pressing chaste kisses on every inch of his tanned skin. Finally, Liam lifts up his shirt, tugging it off nervously. Harry's eyes scan over his chest, because he doesn't remember Liam being this fucking fit, with his muscles and hint of soft chest hair. He wants to leave love bites all over, so he does, ignoring Liam's small protest. He knows Liam wants it, as badly as he does.

Harry can't wait any longer- he's always been impatient, sue him- so whispers in Liam's ear what he's going to do to him. Dirty talk's always been something he's good at, he's sure his mother would be so proud. Ahem. Liam only writhes underneath him, heightening his arousal. Despite this, he lifts his hips up obligingly, so Harry can get behind him, finger brushing against his hole. Liam makes a high, keening sound, still sensitive from his first orgasm.

"S'okay, baby," Harry murmurs. He spits on his finger, so the stretch will hurt less. It's still going to hurt, but Liam doesn't need to know straight away. "Just relax." He gets Liam to spread his legs, so nicely spread out that Harry has to stifle a groan. He's such a pretty sight, cheeks puffed red and lips swollen. He wants to be kind to Liam, and prepare him. He circles his rim with his finger, Liam's body already shuddering from the contact. "So gorgeous," Harry mutters. Sliding in his finger, he winces when he hears Liam's yelp. He can imagine how much it hurts, he's been there before. He doesn't often bottom, though- he likes to be the one giving it.

Harry gives Liam a few minutes, trying to distract him with a squeeze on his dick, that has him hard, again. "H-Harry...Please, no...T-too sore..." Liam breathes, but still responding to his touch.

When Liam gives the all-clear, Harry springs into action. He crooks his finger inside of Liam, earning a breathy moan. He's got to say it now before it's too late; he fucking  _loves_ the little noises Liam makes when he's aroused. Harry experiments with different angles, adding a finger when he thinks Liam's ready. Liam makes a combination of whimpers and high moans. 

When he hits the bundle of nerves inside Liam, it's like Christmas. Watching the shock of pleasure go through him, body jolting. Liam looks so confused, like he can barely comprehend what's going on. Harry sympathises. After your first orgasm, things tend to go a little foggy. Watching Liam, and Harry's entertained. Eyes glazed over, mouth hanging open, he's never looked better.

Even when Louis dyed his hedgehog cut a light shade of magenta, but that's another story.

Harry keeps continually pressing on Liam's sensitive nerves, eliciting little whimpers. Liam buries his head in Harry's shoulder, too far gone to form sentences. Harry doesn't want to cause him too much pain, so he does hold back, but he can't resist ordering Liam to turn over, onto his front, ducking his head down and licking a line across his puckered hole. It contracts in response, while Liam himself is too spent to say anything, silent apart from small sounds. He flattens his tongue against his rim, working Liam up until his thighs are shaking, little gasps in the room.

Harry can't describe how beautiful Liam looks, sprawled out on the bed, hole red and sore. His tongue explores the inside of Liam, choosing against going near his prostate; it would hurt him too much, and Harry doesn't want that. Just mindblowing pleasure. He's not sure what he does, something with his tongue that has Liam juddering, the little cum left dribbling out of his length. Harry pulls out, giving Liam kisses and telling him how amazing he is, how fucking incredible. He's not too sure if Liam can hear him, but there's the subtlest of nods from him tells Harry he can. 

"Li-Li, I don't want to hurt you. Can you have one more orgasm? For me?" He pleads. There's a rustle of sheets, and Liam lifts his hips up, offering himself to Harry. Seeing the sight of someone so wrecked prepared to keep going for him, has Harry cursing. "Shit, Liam. Fucking incredible, just like I said."

Harry's dick is throbbing painfully, and he  _needs_ his release. But trying at the same time not to hurt the boy he loves, he avoids Liam's hyper-sensitive dick, doesn't drag it out and cuts to the chase. Liam's been through enough already. 

He tears open a condom- doesn't want any bad shit to happen- sliding it onto his length, slicking it from a lube bottle he's coviniently been carrying, all this time. 

So maybe he's been prepared for this moment, but it doesn't fucking matter  _now._

There's no resistance, he easily slides into Liam, wet with the cum that's been leaking out. Shit, Liam's tight. Pulsing around his dick, he struggles not to cum now. But he wants to enjoy the experience, so he doesn't. He keeps moving until he's balls-deep, and angles it at Liam's prostate, beginning to thrust. As Harry can feel his impending orgasm, realising how much he's missed the pleasure, when it's coarsing through his veins- not the intense kind, but more the kind that warms him, leaves him feeling happy and drowsy. It's just what he needs now, he doesn't want to be pounding into Liam when he's in this state.

As gently as he possibly can, he pulls himself out, and thrusts back in, finding it much more effective than small thrusts. Hitting the bundle of nerves repeatedly, it's doing something for both Liam and Harry. It's a win-win situation. Harry's just enjoying the sheer high of it all, his body's positive reaction to it.

Harry becomes more vocal, his grunts and moans echoing in the room around them, embarrassingly loud. One more press against Liam's prostate and Harry loses it, spilling his load into the condom, still inside Liam. Harry pulls out quickly, peppering Liam's back with kisses. He cleans up the remnants of his cum around Liam's hole, Liam choking out a: "Please don't," in a croaked voice. Harry's surprised he can still _speak._

The condom's tossed away, Harry cleans up in record time, then all that's left is to lie down, and sleep. 

He nuzzles his nose into Liam's side, 'revelling in the moment' or some sentimental shit like that. Harry feels little puffs of air on his skin, and he knows Liam's unconscious, already fallen into the dream state. God, Harry thinks he can't love him anymore right now. Slinging an arm over Liam's waist, pulling him closer, Harry just lies there, tangled in the dirtied sheets, waiting for the morning to come.

The morning when he wakes up with a shitty hangover, the boy he loves and starknaked in a hotel's bed.

Yep, sounds like a bucketful of fun. 

**Author's Note:**

> i know it's only 4000 words or so, but i take a while to think it through so it's perfect, and arggh it's really not.


End file.
